


laughing at clouds so dark above

by the_one_that_fell



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 5 Times, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 03:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8829514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_one_that_fell/pseuds/the_one_that_fell
Summary: Five rainy days in the lives of Eric Bittle and Jack Zimmermann.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Madiedoodle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madiedoodle/gifts).



> For _Madiedoodle_ , hope this is all the happiness and fluff you could want!
> 
> Thanks to Emily ([janet-snackhole](http://www.janet-snackhole.tumblr.com)) for graciously accepting my demands to beta this lol.

 

It wasn’t that Bitty was _afraid_ of thunderstorms, per se, it was just that he didn’t _like_ them. They were loud and bright and made the old bones of the Haus creak and groan ominously. Seriously, Bitty wasn’t afraid.

But he also couldn’t sleep.

The Haus was quiet for a Friday evening, but he suspected everyone was exhausted by finals as he was. Graduation was quickly approaching, but Jack and Shitty didn’t seem to be celebrating. Of course, Jack didn’t often celebrate anything, and never in the same manner as his teammates.

Careful to miss the creaking bottom step, Bitty tip-toed down the stairs, creeping towards the kitchen for a glass of water. Maybe he’d heat up some milk, the way Mama had often done when he went through his night terrors phase in middle school. It wasn’t his favorite taste, but it did the trick.

Eyes blurred with fatigue, Bitty felt his way through the dark kitchen until he reached the fridge and pulled out his secret stash of whole milk from behind the cartons of leftover Chinese food.

“You know 2%’s healthier, right?”

Bitty nearly dropped the milk in surprise, startled by Jack’s voice. He whipped around, tired eyes catching sight of Jack sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a mostly-empty cup of tea.

“Lord Almighty, you scared the crap outta me,” Bitty wheezed, hand over his rapidly beating heart. “Warn a guy next time, huh?”

“Sorry,” Jack said, not sounding sorry at all. Then, a bit more quietly, he asked, “What are you doing awake?”

Bitty waved the milk at Jack, moving towards the stove. “Can’t sleep through all this ruckus, so I’m heating me up some milk. You want a cup?”

Jack looked down at his tea and nodded. “Yeah. Can’t sleep either.”

Bitty poured out two mugs worth of milk into a pan, then set it on a low heat to warm up. From the spice rack - a Christmas present from Ransom - Bitty plucked the cinnamon and sugar and mixed them in as the milk got hotter. Jack watched him quietly, chin propped up in one hand.

“I should’ve known you’d have your own special way of making it,” Jack mused as Bitty served the drinks. “I just heat up a mug in the microwave and call it a night.”

Bitty smiled. “I know it works just as well plain, but what’s the point of makin’ something at all if you don’t make it a little sweet?”

“That’s…” Jack looked up from his milk, looking almost surprised. “That’s a nice point, actually.”

“Sometimes I say smart things,” Bitty said primly, taking a small sip from his cup. “It’s not all ‘blah blah Georgia pie checking practice’ from me. I have _depths_ , Mr. Zimmermann.”

“I know,” Jack said seriously. “You’re a perceptive person, Bittle. When you’re not glued to Twitter.”

Bitty groaned loudly and slumped against the table, heading thumping against the old, beer-sticky wood. “I’ll never escape the Twitter chirps, will I?”

“Bet you’re glad to get rid of me, eh, Bittle?” Jack teased, but there was a stiffness in his tone that made Bitty sit up in concern.

“Not at all,” he said truthfully, corners of his mouth tugging down. “I’m really gonna miss you and Shitty. The Haus won’t be the same without y’all.”

Jack smiled sadly, staring down into his mug. “I’ll miss you, too. It’s going to be...hard, adjusting to a new team.”

“Oh, but they’ll be great, I’m sure of it,” Bitty said gently. “You’ll go off with your NHL friends and forget all about us.”

“No,” Jack said abruptly, his gaze sharp. “I’ll never forget you. You all. This team.”

Warmth spread through Bitty, tingling in his fingertips, and it had nothing to do with the milk. Lightning crashed outside, illuminating the harsh, anxious lines on Jack’s face. Bitty chewed on his bottom lip, fighting the impulse to reach over and smooth out the worry that lingered in the furrow of Jack’s brow, the tight line of his mouth.

“Promise?” He whispered.

With a small, upward quirk of his mouth, Jack reached out and offered Bitty his little finger.

“Pinky promise,” he said.

Laughing softly, Bitty hooked his pinky finger around Jack’s and they shook on it, like two little kids on the playground. Thunder rolled in the distance, but Bitty didn’t notice it at all. He fell asleep quickly in the early hours of Saturday morning, content in the knowledge that, for at least a little while longer, Jack was just across the hall.

 

Bitty couldn’t believe how much of a dramatic _fool_ his boyfriend was.

This beautiful, ridiculous man was now stripping off his wet clothes, after driving straight from the airport in the pouring rain just to tell Bitty they were a team. There had been a lump in Bitty’s throat since he’d open the front door, and now he wanted nothing more than to wrap himself around Jack and never let go.

“You can hang your pants on the closet door,” Bitty said instead, pulling out a hanger. “And your jacket on the chair.”

“Thanks, Bits,” Jack said softly, eyes fluttering sleepily. Bitty’s heart clenched as he realized how absolutely exhausted Jack probably was after a game and the flight home.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Bitty whispered as Jack hung his pants on the door. “I can’t believe you…”

Jack turned, eyes sharp and focused, only looking a little ridiculous as he stood in nothing but his dress shirt and black boxer-briefs. “Of course I’m here,” he said, voice soft but forceful. “You needed me.”

“ _Jack,_ ” Bitty breathed, then launched himself into Jack’s arms, pulling them flush together. “Thank you.”

He felt lips pressed to the top of his head, then trail down to his temple, then his cheek, then Jack was kissing him, large, calloused hands cradling the sides of Bitty’s face. Bitty kissed back with a tired sort of hunger, desperate to be as close to Jack as possible in this moment. He made quick work of the buttons of Jack’s dress shirt, pushing it off of Jack’s shoulders, pulling away for just a moment to lay it out on the side of his bed to dry.

“You’re so good to me,” Jack said with a small smirk. “Keeping my clothes tidy, getting me naked as fast as possible…”

“Hush,” Bitty said, lightly smacking Jack’s chest. Jack yawned widely, and Bitty could hear his jaw crack with the force of it. “Honey, c’mon. Let’s go to bed.”

Jack nodded sleepily and crawled under the pile of blankets, pulling Bitty in close. He peppered sleepy kisses over Bitty’s face, one hand trailing up Bitty’s shirt to rest on his stomach.

“I want to tell the boys,” Jack said softly, pressing another kiss to Bitty’s temple. “And Lardo. We can trust them, Bits.”

Bitty wrung his hands together. “Jack, it’s a risk, even with them! They could slip up, say something they shouldn’t, post a picture on Twitter or Instagram without thinking…”

Jack brushed his thumb across Bitty’s cheek. “It’s worth the risk, Bitty. I want them to know. I want to be able to talk about you with them. And I want _you_ to be able to count on them when things gets hard.”

“This is your career, Jack,” Bitty said, as he always did when they had this conversation. “It’s not worth your _career—_ ”

“It is, though,” Jack said. “You are.”

The lump that had been persistently waiting in Bitty’s throat dissolved into tears springing at the corners of his eyes. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Jack said a bit lamely. “You have to know how much I care about you, what you mean to me.”

Bitty nodded, not trusting himself to speak without crying. Jack seemed to understand, and didn’t say more. Biting his lip, Bitty reached up and reverently traced Jack’s cheekbone with his fingers.

“Do you...how do you think they’ll take it?” Bitty asked quietly.

“Are you _scared_ of how they’ll react?” Jack asked, sounding taken aback. “Bits, they love you so much. They’re our friends.”

Bitty looked away. “It’s one thing to be supportive of your gay friend when you’re not watchin’ them _be_ gay. And, I don’t know, people expect it from me. But you’re...you’re a big, cool NHL player. What if...what if that changes things?”

“Okay, _one_ ,” Jack said, wrapping his arms tighter around Bitty. “You’re the only one of our friends who thinks I’m _cool_ . Well, Chowder...Anyway, and _two_ : they love you so much and they’re pretty okay with me most of the time.” He ignored Bitty’s protests with a small smile. “Nothing will ever change how much they love you and want you to be happy. And I’ve never heard any of them say anything remotely homophobic, I promise. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Bitty nodded, biting his lip. “Do you...do you think they’ll be mad we didn’t tell them sooner?”

“No,” Jack said with a shrug. “But if they are? Fuck ‘em.”

Bitty laughed despite himself. “Okay. Okay. I’m bein’ silly. Our friends love us. They won’t be mad. Got it.”

“It’s not silly,” Jack murmured. “Putting trust in other people is scary. But these guys have had our backs for a long time.” He paused, brushing his fingers through Bitty’s hair, then added, “Who d’you think will give the first shovel talk?”

“Jack, I don’t really think…” Bitty stopped and sighed. “Shitty. To me.”

Jack chuckled softly. “Sounds about right. Though Holster’ll find just about any reason to fight me.”

“Please don’t get into a wrestling match with him because he’s defending my honor or whatever dramatic bullshit he cooks up,” Bitty said around a yawn.

“I’ll try, but Holster always starts it,” Jack said, almost petulant.

Bitty snorted. “That’s just not true at all.”

Jack pouted for a moment, then grinned as he pulled Bitty closer, one leg slipping between Bitty’s. “Let’s tell them tomorrow. Over a Haus brunch. I parked next to Shitty’s car, I know he’s still here somewhere. It’s perfect timing.”

Bitty tensed with anxiety for a moment, then took and deep breath and nodded. “You’re right. Tomorrow at brunch. Let’s do Jerry’s, I know I won’t have the energy to cook.”

“Mm,” Jack said. “Jerry’s sounds perfect.”

“Okay.” Bitty sighed, letting tension seep from his shoulders as the finality of the decision sank in. They were doing this. Bitty wouldn’t have to lie to his closest friends any longer. “Okay.”

Jack yawned and pulled Bitty to his chest like a teddy bear. “Great. I’ll set an alarm then.”

Bitty hummed and let his eyes flutter closed. “‘Kay!” Then he realized how empty his hands felt, and Bitty felt his face burning with embarrassment. “...Oh, no...Um...Are you sitting on-?”

“I put him in the window.” Bitty looked up to find Señor Bun perched on his windowsill, facing out towards the street. Relief and adoration flooded through him, and he pressed several kisses to Jack’s chest.

“Oh! Hahaha! Watchin’ it rain…” With one last kiss to Jack’s sternum, Bitty settled back down and closed his eyes, feeling more relaxed and content than he had in weeks. “Night, honey.”

Jack smiled, eyes still shut, and mumbled a sleepy, “Night.”

In the morning, they would call their friends together and entrust them with their huge, beautiful secret. And it would be okay, Bitty knew that, deep down. He sighed, nervous but happy, and let the rain lull him back to sleep.

 

Several factors went into choosing Jack’s apartment in Providence: proximity to the rink, in-building gym, big kitchen. But one perk Jack hadn’t expected was the community garden out back, where everyone in the complex was welcome to to plant and grow and pick as they pleased.

Bitty loved the garden, loved walking through it and taking the occasional sprigs of rosemary for his cooking. Jack hadn’t been sure what the draw was, at first, until his second off-season in Providence, when he found himself getting antsy with anxiety. Bitty was home in Georgia, spending a last few weeks with his parents before moving in with Jack. And Jack was left to stew in the worry of everything everyone had said to him in the past few months: it’s too soon; he’s so young; what if you’re traded?

What if someone finds out?

Bitty had gone over these worries with him before his flight, hands rubbing the knots from Jack’s shoulders. “We’ve been dating for two years, sweetheart,” he’d said. “I can vote, drink, and serve in the army - I’m not too young to make my own decisions, thank you very much. We were hausmates for a whole year, we know how to live togther. If you’re traded, then we’ll cross that bridge when we get there, and no one will find out because no one’s found out in these past two years. It’s not like you’re Beyonce, darlin’. The paparazzi aren’t gonna bug your apartment or stalk you across Providence. The only thing moving in together will change is how often I get to see your pretty face in person.”

After Bitty had waved goodbye at the airport, Jack had written down all of these points on a post-it note he now kept in his pocket. But it didn’t feel like enough.

As he paced his apartment, starkly empty without Bitty’s presence, Jack glanced out of his window and noticed the green patchwork of the garden. There was no reason to take anything, not without Bitty to work his kitchen magic, but Jack found himself wandering downstairs anyway. He didn’t return until nightfall, covered in dirt and calmer than he’d been in weeks.

So the garden became his refuge. Most of the regulars were older and quiet, only rarely chatting with Jack. None of them seemed to recognize him as anyone other than their neighbor. It was a peaceful place.

Bitty joined him again, when he returned from Georgia, and it became a thing the two of them did in silence. Though a naturally chatty person, Bitty knew the importance of quiet, of letting one’s mind rest. He was happy just to be with Jack, after two years of fighting conflicting schedules and long distances. Unlike Jack, Bitty seemed blessed with a green thumb. But Jack put his mind to gardening the way he did with hockey and photography and being his boyfriend’s sous chef - by giving 110%.

It was late summer and he and Bitty were the only people in the garden. It was a warm but cloudy day, and Jack could smell the thick sweetness of rain before the first of the rumblings began. Bitty didn't seem to notice the shift in the winds, and continued his work while humming under his breath.

The first drops of rain were soft and warm, almost light enough to ignore. But then Jack looked skyward and a dam broke, sending a downpour to pelt his face.

In an instant, Jack was on his feet, chucking their gardening supplies into the little shed and turning towards the building. He needed to get Bitty inside before they got soaked through. Jack glanced over and found himself smiling unexpectedly.

Bitty didn't run to the cover of the building. Instead, he gazed up at the sky in wonder, as if he hadn't quite processed that it was raining. Then a bright, wide smile split across his face.

“It’s raining!” He shouted to Jack. Jack felt a little taken aback.

“I can see that,” Jack said slowly. “You don’t wanna-?”

But Bitty wasn’t paying attention to him, stretching out his arms like he was awaiting a big hug. Then, he stuck out his tongue and began spinning in slow circles, head tilted back.

Jack watched as his boyfriend danced in the garden, mouth open to the rain. Bitty was giggling, looking as carefree and delighted as he had when Jack met him, 18 and away from home for the first time.

“Watcha doing, Bits?” Jack called, ignoring the feeling of rain dripping down his neck.

“I’m catching the lemon drops and gumdrops!” Bitty shouted, grabbing Jack’s hand and spinning him around. Their shoes sloshed through the half-formed puddles, soaking through as Bitty twirled them.

“You’re what?” Jack asked with an incredulous laugh.

“Ain’t you ever heard that song?” Bitty asked. “If all the raindrops were lemon drops and gumdrops, oh what a rain it would be!”

“I’ve never heard that,” Jack murmured, letting his hands slide down to settle at Bitty’s waist. “It’s cute.”

Bitty looked away, surprisingly bashful. “It’s from Barney,” he admitted, cheeks turning red. “Mama used to always sing it to me when it rained. Just a habit I never broke, I guess.”

Jack reached out to brush back the strands of hair plastered against Bitty’s forehead. “That's sweet,” he said softly. “I didn't know you liked the rain.”

Bitty shrugged and grinned up at Jack. “I guess you don't know everything ‘bout me, huh, Mr. Zimmermann?”

“Guess not,” Jack said, sliding his hand down to cup Bitty’s cheek. For a moment he was mesmerized by the rivulets of water running over Bitty’s lips. Then, without thinking, he added, “I can't wait to learn everything about you.”

Bitty gaped up at him, dumbstruck. Thunder broke the silence and Bitty laughed, smacking Jack’s chest with a loud, wet slap. “Honey, you can't just say things like that! My poor little heart can't take it!”

“It's true, though,” Jack protested, pulling Bitty closer. “I don't know your favorite color, or what you wanted to grow up to be when you were five, or which Beyoncé song is your favorite. But I want to. I want to know everything about you.”

Bitty’s hands settled on Jack’s chest, toying with the soaked, white fabric. “Blue, like your eyes. A veterinarian, but only for bunnies. And Partition, which you should know given that it's 90% of my date night playlist.” Bitty kissed Jack’s chest, then rose up on his tiptoes to peck Jack’s lips. “I want to learn everything about you, too, sweetheart.

Jack leaned down to kiss Bitty thoroughly. It was wet and sloppy as the rain drenched them, but Jack was thrumming with a happy sort of warmth as Bitty pressed against him. Thunder rumbled again and he pulled away.

“Let's head inside,” Jack said, reaching out to toy with the collar of Bitty’s tank top. The red fabric was soaked through and clung to Bitty’s wiry frame in a way that made Jack’s mouth dry. “Let's get you out of these wet clothes, eh?”

Bitty cast Jack an amused look. “I see what you're doing, Mr. Zimmermann,” he said with mock reproach.

“Oh, do you?” Jack asked, tugging on Bitty’s hand.

“Mhmm.” Bitty pulled his hand from Jack’s grip with a sniff, turning his head away dramatically. Then, with a devilish grin, he smacked Jack’s ass and all but ran towards the building. Jack stared after him in shock for just a moment, until Bitty turned back to shout, “These clothes ain't removing themselves, sweetheart!”

Jack grinned and chased after his boyfriend, shoes squelching as he splashed through puddles to catch up.

 

 

A cold, dreary rain pounded on the windows. Jack couldn’t help but feel a _little_ agitated.

“I can’t believe you’ve never had a white Christmas,” he griped from his sprawled position on the couch. From the armchair next to him, Coach chuckled.

“Honey, I don’t really understand why the snow is so important to you Canadians,” Bitty said. He was three glasses of eggnog in, which always slowed down his speech and stretched out his vowels. It was a sweet, sleepy kind of tipsy that Jack loved on Bitty.

“Next year we’re doing Christmas in Montreal,” Jack grumbled, sitting up to give Bitty room. “You have to have a white Christmas at _some_ point. It’s a thing. They wrote a song about it.”

Bitty laughed and rested his head on Jack’s shoulder. “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

Jack pressed a kiss to the top of Bitty’s head. The look Coach gave them was wary, but Jack had a feeling it wasn’t that the man disapproved of the relationship. There was something in Coach’s eyes that Jack couldn’t interpret, but it didn’t seem angry or upset. Maybe...surprised?

“Dicky, sweetheart?” Suzanne called from the kitchen. “I need a second set of hands with these bows. Help your mama?”

Bitty groaned but pulled himself up. “Coming, Mama!” He shouted, then pressed a lingering kiss to Jack’s lips before skipping into the next room.

The TV was playing some holiday movie in black and white, but Jack wasn’t paying attention to it. Instead, he caught Coach’s gaze and rose one curious, challenging eyebrow.

Coach took a sip of his own eggnog and leaned back in his chair. “You’re already planning ahead to next Christmas?” He asked, voice steady and unassuming.

Jack nodded. “Yes, sir, I am. I’m sure we can work something out, maybe spend New Year’s here. It’ll depend on my schedule and how much time Bitty can take off of work, sure, or maybe you and Suzanne could come up to Montreal—my treat, of course. My parents would love to have you—”

Coach cut him off with a raised hand. “You’re that certain you’ll still be with Junior this time next year?”

Ah, there it was. Jack shrugged, feeling a bit embarrassed. “If it were totally up to me, I’d be with him for the rest of my life.”

Coach blinked, face unchanged, then slowly stood and walked over to where Jack sat. He motioned for Jack to stand, and for a brief second Jack wondered if this short, older man was going to try and fight him.

Then he was pulled into a tight hug. Jack had never seen Coach display much in the way of physical affection—a pat on the back here, an approving nod there.

“He loves you a lot,” Coach said gruffly, slapping Jack on the back a couple times before pulling away. “S’good to know it goes both ways.”

Jack nodded, face burning. “I’ve never loved someone as much as I love him,” he admitted quietly.

Coach nodded. “Good. Good. Um. Take care of him, alright? And if you hurt him…”

Jack snorted with laughter. “Sir, I would never. You’re also probably the fifth person to threaten me, so...he’s in good hands.”

“Daddy, I can’t believe you’re threatening Jack,” Bitty said with a huff as he came back into the room. “You’re drunk.”

“Am not,” Coach said petulantly. “Only had a coupla drinks…”

“Coach,” Bitty said firmly. “Mama wants to talk with you ‘bout the top secret Christmas presents I’m not supposed to know about,” he added, jerking his head towards the kitchen. “And I’ll have you know that Jack wouldn’t purposefully hurt me and the shovel talk is both archaic and insulting-”

Bitty’s Shitty-inspired rant was cut short by Coach pecking his forehead. Coach seemed to think nothing of it and stumbled towards the kitchen with a lazy grin, but Bitty stood stock-still in the living room, stunned speechless.

“What on _earth_ did you say to him?” He finally asked Jack, collapsing down onto Jack’s lap unceremoniously. “Is he really that drunk?”

Jack pressed a soft kiss to Bitty’s head, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him close. “We were just talking about you. How much I love you. You know. Guy stuff.”

Bitty laughed softly and nuzzled his head into the crook of Jack’s neck. “You two are ridiculous. I always knew y’all would get along but _gosh_.”

“Of course we get along,” Jack murmured, trailing kisses down Bitty’s neck until he reached the collar of the worn, SMH sweatshirt Bitty had stolen from him several years ago. He nuzzled his nose under the faded, red fabric, and peppered a few kisses across Bitty’s collarbone. “We both love _you_.”

If Bitty hadn’t melted into a pile of goo from the kisses, he did now, turning languidly to bring Jack’s mouth to his. They exchanged lazy kisses for several minutes, Jack’s hands inching up under Bitty’s sweatshirt, until a loud cough came from behind the couch.

“We’re going to bed, boys,” Coach said a bit too loudly. “See you in the morning.”

Bitty straightened his shirt and peered over Jack’s shoulder. “Night, Coach. Night, Mama. Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight, boys,” Suzanne said, clearly holding back giggles. She then all but dragged Coach from the living room as Jack called out a half-hearted “goodnight.”

“That was awkward,” he said, reattaching his lips to Bitty’s neck.

“Mm, yeah,” Bitty agreed, eyes fluttering closed. “Not as awkward as when your dad walked in on us, though.”

Jack shivered, face paling. “I thought we agreed to never bring that up again?”

“Sorry, sugar,” Bitty said, pecking his nose sweetly. Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance. “And sorry you don’t get a white Christmas this year.”

Jack’s face softened and he pushed Bitty back against the cushions of the couch until they were both lying down, Jack hovering over Bitty on his elbows. “I don’t need a white Christmas if I’m spending the holidays with you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss softly to Bitty’s cheek.

“Charmer,” Bitty said, tugging on Jack’s shirt to pull him down into another kiss. Lightning crashed outside, illuminating the suddenly mischievous look on Bitty’s face. “Since Mama and Coach have gone to bed, you wanna unwrap one of your presents?”

“Oh, no, I think I can until morning,” Jack said, eyes flicking over the pile of presents under the tree.

Bitty nipped at Jack’s bottom lip, then slipped out from under him, heading towards the stairs. “You sure about that?” He asked softly, slipping a hand under his sweatshirt and rucking it up, just enough to show off his abs and the waistband of his briefs peeking out under his khakis.

Jack grinned and scrambled up from the couch, hoisting Bitty up in his arms. “Well, if you insist, I guess I could unwrap _one_ …”

Bitty wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck and pulled him into a deep, dirty kiss. “C’mon, Mr. Zimmermann. Let’s go upstairs and see what Santa brought you.”

Jack snorted but headed up the stairs anyway. “Bits, that was terrible.”

“Shush, I’m seducing you,” Bitty whispered, unbuttoning the top of Jack’s shirt. “With a holiday theme.”

Jack nudged the door to Bitty’s room open with his hip and set Bitty down gently on the bed. “You seduce me with everything you do,” he whispered, crawling next to him. “You don’t even have to try, Bits. I’m in love with every inch of you.”

When they first started dating, that kind of thing would’ve sent Bitty into a whirlwind of stammering and blushing, but now he just smiled shyly at Jack and worked on the buttons on the lower half of Jack’s shirt.

“Such a sap,” Bitty murmured, pushing Jack’s shirt off his shoulders. “My beautiful sap.”

“All yours,” Jack murmured against Bitty’s temple. “Always yours.”

“Good,” Bitty said, cupping Jack’s face in his hands. “‘Cause you’re never gettin’ rid of me.”

Jack grinned so wide his cheeks ached and tackled Bitty back against the pillows, peppering his face with kisses. Bitty laughed softly and threaded his fingers through Jack’s hair, and pulled him down for a deep, proper kiss.

 

The next morning, the Bittles exchanged sly looks as Bitty and Jack came down the stairs, yawning. “This is the first Christmas in twenty five years,” Coach said slowly, sipping on a mug of coffee. “That Junior hasn’t been awake at five on Christmas morning.”

“You tired, Dicky?” Suzanne asked, looking up from the hash browns she was cooking. “Must’ve been the eggnog, huh?”

Jack had never seen Bitty’s face go so red so quickly—not even after Ransom and Holster found videos of his old figure skating routines. But Jack just laughed and pressed a kiss to Bitty’s hair. “That must’ve been it,” he said to Suzanne. “Eggnog and the rain.”

“Presents,” Bitty said before the conversation could go any further. “Time for presents!”

They all laughed at that and slowly migrated into the living room to sit around the Christmas tree, coffees in hand. Outside, sunlight peeked through the gray storm clouds.

 

Bitty kissed soft, lazy kisses to Jack’s chest, nose brushing against his sternum. Bitty’s cheeks were still pink from the wine and his eyes drooped sleepily as he looked up at Jack. Jack couldn’t imagine being any happier than he was here, Bitty tucked into his arms, warm and drowsy. It almost scared him, how in love he felt.

“Bits,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from Bitty’s forehead. Bitty hummed and looked up at him, eyes a little unfocused. He’d been up early this morning, video conferencing with his producers, and had spent most of the rest of the day flitting between calls with his editor and doting on Jack. Bitty was probably exhausted, wanted nothing more than to sleep, but the smile he gave Jack was heart-wrenchingly bright and genuine.

“What’s up, hun?” He whispered back, resting his cheek on Jack’s belly and gazing up at him with fondness. Jack traced Bitty’s lips with his outstretched fingers, trailing up to brush against the faint freckles on his cheeks, the laughter lines by his eyes. Bitty closed his eyes and hummed happily, rubbing small circles against Jack’s ribs.

“We should get married,” Jack said, almost too quiet to hear. Bitty’s eyes sprang open but he didn’t move, mouth falling open to form a perfect “O” shape.

“What was that, sugar?” He asked, hands stilling on Jack’s waist.

“We should get married,” Jack repeated, louder. “I mean. If you want to.”

For a split second, Jack thought he’d messed everything up. But then a small, warm smile crept across Bitty’s face, and he pulled himself up to straddle Jack’s abdomen. “Oh, only if _I_ want to, _eh_?”

Tension seeped from Jack’s shoulders and he wrapped his arms around Bitty’s waist, pulling him closer. “Well, obviously _I_ want to, or else I wouldn’t have asked.”

Bitty cupped Jack’s face in both of his hands, laughing softly. “Honey, there wasn’t actually a question in there.”

Jack heaved a dramatic sigh and dumped Bitty unceremoniously on the pillows next to him. As Bitty squawked and laughed, Jack rolled off the bed and knelt down one knee. Bitty scrambled into a sitting position and let Jack take his hand, both of them grinning like fools.

“Eric Richard Bittle,” Jack said, punctuating each name with a kiss to Bitty’s knuckles. “I have never loved anyone the way I love you. It may have taken a while for me to see what a genuinely kind, caring, beautiful, inspirational, _wonderful_ person you are-”

“—and far too many checking clinics,” Bitty interjected. Jack huffed a laugh.

“—but you are the best person I’ve ever known and these past eight years have been the best of my life.”

Bitty’s look of amusement softened. “Really? You’re counting the year you hated me?”

“You make everything better, even back when I was too stubborn to see it,” Jack said, bringing Bitty’s hand to his cheek. “You make _me_ better.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you make me better, too. Every day, you inspire me to be the best person I can be.” Bitty’s eyes were starting to shine with tears, and he pressed his lips together tightly to keep them at bay.

“I want to feel this way for the rest of my life,” Jack continued, steadfastly ignoring the tightness in his throat. “Bitty— _Eric_. Please, will you marry me?”

Tears were flowing freely down Bitty’s cheeks now, and he practically threw himself to the floor to wrap Jack up in a hug. “Of course I will,” he said, voice wet but bright. “I love you so, so much.”

Jack had been wrong, earlier—there was no way he could feel happier than in _this_ moment, Bitty curling around him, pressing kisses to his hair, crying with joy. This was the kind of happiness he’d never dreamed of feeling again after the overdose. It was warmer and brighter than how he’d felt winning the Stanley Cup, bigger and lighter than the day Shitty and Lardo asked him to be Olivia’s godfather. It was the kind of pure, quiet happiness that he’d remember ‘til his dying breath, that would carry him through bad days and dark thoughts.

The rain on the window cast a flickering shadow across Bitty’s skin, like sunlight through spring leaves, and Jack leaned down to steal a kiss. Bitty smiled against Jack’s lips, pressing himself against Jack.

They eventually crawled back up to the bed, exchanging soft kisses and excited murmurs. Jack felt almost numb with warmth and happiness, and couldn’t tear his eyes away from Bitty for more than a few seconds at a time, drinking in the sight of him, giggly and golden in the dim lamplight of the bedroom.

“I have to call my mama!” Bitty gasped, gripping at Jack’s shoulder. Jack huffed a laughed pushed Bitty back against his pillow.

“Bits, it’s late, she’s probably asleep—”

Bitty cut him off with a look. “Finish that sentence and I’m tellin’ Mama you wanted me to _wait_ to tell her her only baby’s gettin’ hitched.”

Jack laughed and pulled away, letting Bitty maneuver past him to grab his phone. “You know, you get a lot more Southern when you’re trying to be intimidating.”

“Hush up, baby, you’re ruining the mood,” Bitty said, patting Jack on the cheek. Jack rolled his eyes with a grin.

“Oh, wait!” Jack said, springing from the bed. “Wait for a sec.”

How could he have forgotten? Jack sprinted from the room and down the hall to his office, where he’d tucked a small box into the back of his filing cabinet. It had gotten a little dusty, so he brushed it clean and jogged back to the bedroom.

Bitty was sitting cross legged in Jack’s place now, toying with his phone like he was dying to make a phone call. Jack knew he should probably call Shitty and tell him he’d finally— _finally_ —popped the question, but he also knew Lardo would appreciate it if they _didn’t_ wake up her very loud infant daughter.

“Honey, is that what I think it is?” Bitty asked, eyes trained on the box in Jack’s hand. Jack nodded and handed it over for inspection.

Bitty slowly lifted the black, velvet lid and gasped. The ring was simple, a beautiful rose gold band that had reminded Jack so strongly of Bitty when he first saw it.

“When did you get this?” Bitty asked weakly.

“Um.” Jack hesitated, then sighed and admitted, “April...of 2016.”

A hand flew to Bitty’s mouth and he gasped softly. “Honey...we hadn’t even been dating a year.”

Jack shrugged, casting his eyes down. “That was my first Stanley cup playoffs and we were knocked out early and...it didn’t hurt like I thought it would. ‘Cause you were there when I got home. And I just...you fell asleep right away that night but I couldn’t...I was too anxious to sleep. But I just knew, then, that no matter what happened, even if I had to retire early because of injury or never got to hold the cup...I’d have you. And I wanted to be sure of that, so while you were back at Samwell I went to the jewelry store and bought this.”

“Jack…” Bitty murmured, eyes watering. “Sweetheart, you big, romantic sap.”

“There’s an inscription, inside,” Jack murmured, settling down on the bed next to his fiancé. Bitty plucked the ring from the box like a child plucking a shell from the beach, carefully and with great wonder. He tilted the band to look on the inside and his brow immediately furrowed.

_August 8th, 2013_

“It’s the day we met,” Jack said, watching as Bitty’s confusion melted into adoration. “The day you brought pecan pie to a hockey orientation meeting.” Jack kissed Bitty’s temple. “I’ll never forget the look of absolute horror on your face when Holster and Ransom got ahold of that pie.”

“ _Pecan_ ,” Bitty corrected absently, turning the ring over in his fingers. “And I was right to be horrified, our friends are heathens— _Jack_ , I can’t believe you even remember meeting me that day, I must’ve said two words to you, if any.”

Jack shrugged a bit sheepishly. “I remember thinking you wouldn’t last a semester on the team if you were so put-off by how the boys ate. I’m glad I was wrong.”

Bitty looked up at Jack and bit his lip, then silently handed the ring over to Jack and held out his left hand.

“Would you care to do the honors, Mr. Zimmermann?” He asked, cheeks darkening. Jack grinned and took the ring, then slid it carefully onto Bitty’s finger. Before Bitty could say anything, Jack dropped a kiss to his hand, just above the band.

“Oh, gosh,” Bitty said, pulling Jack in for a proper kiss. “Now I _really_ gotta call my mama. She needs to see this ring!”

“Okay,” Jack said, leaning back against the headboard and pulling Bitty in to lean against his chest. “Wake up your mother. But...leave out the part where I forgot to actually ask you?”

Bitty laughed and patted Jack’s thigh. “Sweetheart, we’ve been together long enough that you should know that’s _not_ gonna happen.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jack sighed, pressing a soft kiss behind Bitty’s ear.

The shriek that came through the phone just a few minutes later probably woke up half of Georgia, but it was worth it to watch Bitty half-cry, half-laugh into his phone as he described the ring to Suzanne and what the inscription meant.

The rain outside had gotten harder, louder, but inside it was warm and dry. Jack tightened his grip around Bitty’s waist and let the sounds of his fiancé’s chatter lull him into a deep and peaceful sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from _Singin’ in the Rain._
> 
> (Thank you to Luminous_Bluebell for catching my 'sous chef' typo!)


End file.
